Ib's Love
by jj4622
Summary: Mary sacrificed herself for Ib, but what happened next? A Mary x Ib sequel to Sacrifice. Warning: Dark in places.


**A/N: So, welcome to this story. It's a sequel to Sacrifice. With Ib X Mary as a yuri pairing. Don't like, don't read. For those who do like, here's the story. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.**

**WARNING: This was supposed to be a nice fluffy romance, and as I was writing it just went all dark on me. So be warned. Sorry. But it has an alright ending.**

**23/08/13: Some typos and spelling errors fixed, but I probably didn't catch all of them. Developed the last scene slightly, as I felt it could use some work. Also added epilogue scene.**

* * *

Ib looked around, feeling strangely... sad. Like she'd lost something, but forgotten what. She looked up into the painting she stood before, feeling a sense of both foreboding and longing. _Huh, who would have thought a scribble could be so moving?_ Turning away from the odd painting, she returned to the entrance. _Hmm... I haven't been this way yet. _She went down a different corridor, one that led to a large painting on the floor. The painting showed some fish from very deep below the sea. Again, that same feeling, that feeling of fear and desire. _What the hell is this?_ She walked towards the right hand corridor, which led to a sculpture of a red rose. Once again, strange feelings welled up inside her. This time though, it was a protective feeling, like she wanted to keep the sculpture safe - and she still couldn't explain why. _This is starting to scare me. _

As she stared at the sculpture, a man walked up beside her. He was much taller than her, with lilac coloured hair and violet eyes. She wasn't sure why but she felt safe standing next to him, and she stepped closer to him, almost leaning on his arm before she realised what she was doing. Blushing, she moved away from him, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Umm... Excuse me." She said. He looked down at her with a smile on his face.

"Yes? What is it, young lady?" He spoke softly, with a gentle voice.

"Uh... could you tell me about this sculpture please?"

"Certainly. It's called Embodiment of the Spirit. I think it's supposed to represent someone's soul or heart but I'm not really sure. I'm not really that good at understanding artists really, but it still manages to invoke strong emotions in me."

"Oh, that's nice..."

"How does it make you feel, Ib?"

Ib was about to respond, when she realised something. _I never told him my name! How does he know who I am!? _

When she looked at him, he seemed confused. "Ib? Who's Ib? I'm sorry, that name just slipped out for some reason."

"Umm, my name is Ib."

"It is? Well that's odd. I'm sure we've never met before, have we?"

"I don't think we have."

"Yes, I'm sure I'd remember you... Well anyway, I need to get going now. Goodbye Ib."

"Okay, goodbye Garry." As he turned to walk away, he froze for a second, before turning around to look at her.

"How did you know my name's Garry?"

"I-I don't know... I, uh..."

"It seems like we're both guessing each other's names." He reached into his pocket. "What's this?" He said as he pulled a blood stained handkerchief from his pocket. "Strange, I could have sworn I had a bit of candy in there... And whose is this?"

"Umm... I think it's mine..."

"Hmm... So it is, it's got your name on it! But how did it get into my pocket? And... why is it... covered... in... blood..." At this his eyes widened in shock. "I was injured, my hand was bleeding... a young girl gave me her handkerchief... and her name was... Ib!" He looked up with an expression of wonder on his face. "Ib, do you remember? Everything that happened in the gallery?"

"What are you talking about?" Ib asked, unable to understand a single thing he'd said, though it all sounded extremely familiar.

"You don't remember anything? Not even Mary?"

At once, Ib's head exploded, her memories rushing back. The paintings, the statues, running, lots of running, Garry saving her, and Mary. Over and over again, Mary. Every little detail of that girl and what she'd done came flooding back to her. "I... I remember it all. How could I forget? Especially Mary... How could I forget her?" With this, Ib began to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Mary... we failed you..."

"Don't say that Ib... We couldn't have left with her, and all three of us knew it. We left because she wouldn't take our places."

"I... I guess so... but I still feel bad..."

"Me too..." Garry sighed a looked towards the exit. "Maybe we should come back - maybe once a month? Just to thank her..."

"Yes! We should do that! Me especially..."

"Why's that?"

"Well, if she hadn't saved me, I'd have gone with that fake version of my mother..."

"Yes, of course... Well, we should definitely come back here, and then we need to go get those macaroons I promised you."

"Yeah..."

"Ib? You OK?"

"Not really... I just want her to be here Gary... The worst bit about everything is that I... think I fell in...I think... I fell in love with her..."

Garry looked torn, halfway between grabbing Ib and hugging her, and telling her that she's only 9 and that this was weird. In the end, he settled for, "Are you sure?"

"Yes... every time I was near her, my heart began to beat faster... and I would get so excited when she held my hand, or hugged me. W-when you were separated from us, she would play with my hair, brushing it, running it through her fingers, twirling it around her fingers, and I felt so calm... so relaxed, and I never wanted that moment to end. I... I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't! I tried to kiss her but I couldn't do it! What if... what if that would have made her hate me? But I love her so much; I can remember everything about her. Her radiant beauty, the smell of her hair, the scent of roses. How her laugh warmed me to my core, and how her tears chilled my heart..."

Garry smiled slightly. "Well that sounds like love to me... I'm sorry that you can't be with her Ib. Maybe we could find her portrait here? That would probably be best. Then you can see her again."

Ib looked up with an expression that was hopeful, desperate, and bordering on a little maniacal. "You know where she is?"

"Uh... yeah... well not really... but all of Guertena's portraits are all in one section, and they're arranged by age, so she should be at the end of that section. And she's by far his best painting, so she'll definitely be there."

"Well, let's go then." Ib pulled on Garry's hand. "Take me to her."

"Ah! Okay! Ib wait up!" Garry walked quickly in the direction of the entrance hall. Going up the stairs, they took a right, then another right, passing by the Death of the Individual, before turning left once more, passing the Fabricated World. At the end of this corridor was a large double door. Ib had no idea how she had managed to miss it when she was up here last. Through the door was another large staircase, leading up to a third floor. The décor on the third floor was the same, but the paintings were all portraits. Many portraits, of many different people. Looking at the portraits, Garry said, "She should be on the opposite side of this floor. Let's go." Moving quickly through the tangle of corridors and people, they came to that side, but they couldn't find her. "Where could she be?" said Garry.

Suddenly, one of the gallery staff popped up behind his shoulder. "Hello, can I help you?"

Garry leapt up into the air with a rather comical 'Eek!' which made Ib giggle quietly. _Even out here, in the real world, he's still a scardy-cat._ "Uh... W-where did you come from?" Garry asked, trying to cover up his actions.

"I heard you say you were looking for something, and wanted to see if I could help. So, what is it you're looking for?"

"Well, we're looking for a specific painting. It's titled Mary."

"Oh yes, I know that one. It has its own little section, being the last work of the artist's life. If you go down that corridor," she said, pointing to a corridor on Garry's left, "Then take the second left, before going through the first door on your right; it should be right in front of you." Garry thanked the want before guiding Ib along the route she described. As he opened the door, Ib pushed past him, rushing into the room ahead of him. Garry smiled, shook his head and walked into the room.

The walls were black in here, and bare, save for a single painting, with a small notice underneath, and a small brass lamp that extended from the wall above them. The painting was, of course, Mary. It was lucky they were the only people in there, because Ib was pressed up against the painting, staring at it lovingly. "Mary..." She whispered.

Garry patted her head, looking directly at Mary. "I'm sorry about everything Mary." He said in a calm, sad tone of voice. "None of us wanted it to end like this, but I don't see how to change it. So I'm sorry Mary. But also... thank you. Thank you for letting me and Ib carry on our lives." He paused, looking at Ib. "I'm going to go over to the other side of the room now, so Ib can say what she wants to, okay?" With that, he walked a little way away.

Ib gazed longingly at Mary's picture for a few more seconds before beginning to talk. "Mary, I... I don't know what to say. I guess what I want to say is that, well... I love you. And I always will. I just hope you don't hate me for it." She let out a long sigh, sinking to her knees, before carrying on. "I don't know how to carry on living Mary. How can I go on with this chasm inside my heart, a void which only you can fill? How can I continue to live?" She started to cry, tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill out, "And what if I don't want to carry on without you? What then? What if I can't, for whatever reason?" And now the tears spilt out, flowing down her cheeks, dripping off her chin and pooling on the floor in a small, salty puddle. She sat like this, sobbing, for two or three minutes, before finally managing to get control of her breathing once more. She looked back up at Mary before taking a deep breath."But I'll try. Just for you, I'll try." With that, she got up, and walked away.

* * *

It was almost two and a half months later when things took a turn for the worse.

For that short length of time beforehand, things seemed to have returned to normal. There were certain differences to her old life, such as her regular meetings with Garry, (Who could have guessed that he went to the art college over the road from her school, or that his mum and her mum knew each other well, his mum being her mum's favourite hairdresser?), and she would occasionally have to be alone, whether in her room or a school toilet, just to cry for a little, when the pain of not having Mary around was too much.

The most noticeable change, however, was her new found love of art. She would draw or paint whenever she could, and everything she made was a masterpiece. Everyone, her teachers, her parents, and her friends, were incredibly supportive of her new found talent. However, they only ever saw maybe a third of her work. They saw the lovely landscapes, still life's and abstracts she painted in school. She never drew them portraits. Those were all in her room.

If you looked in her room, you would never notice anything wrong, until you looked closely. At first glance it looked like what one might expect a young artist's room to be like. A small bed, a couple of dressers against one wall, and a very large desk against the other. Piled high on the desk were drawings and pictures done on paper. On the only area of vaguely clear space, there were paint stains, stubs of charcoal, broken pencil leads and one rouge bottle of green ink. In one of the slightly ajar drawers, various supplies could be seen, including a palette knife. Two stacks of canvases (One of used, one of unused) were on one side, and an easel leant against the other side. All in all, it looked completely normal. But look closer. Sift through the stacks of paper, examining each piece. Explore the pile of used canvases, and note what is depicted on each. Move aside her pillows to discover a small number of pencil sketches of a slightly more adult nature. You would notice one thing. One thing running through every one of them.

Mary.

Over and over again, Mary.

Ib was, quite clearly, obsessed. And it was this that led to what was to follow.

* * *

It was at 01:00 on a Wednesday morning that it happened.

Ib could feel a mounting pressure inside her. A need to do something, anything to relieve the pain inside her. So she went downstairs. She opened the door to the storeroom, where they kept the mops, buckets, bleach... and the toolbox.

Opening the toolbox up, she looked for the standing knife. Once she found it, she quickly located the pack of spare blades beside it. Slipping one out, she put everything else back, just as she found it.

Heading upstairs, she opened the bathroom door. Slipping inside, and quickly locking the door, she stood over the toilet as she pulled up the left sleeve of her pyjamas. Staring at her left forearm, she paused for a moment. _What am I doing? I can't do this! _But then, the pain from earlier hit her like a tidal wave, and before she knew it, she had raised the blade to her arm, and then, just as suddenly, she swiped it across her arm.

The extremely sharp blade slid easily through her flesh, with surprisingly little resistance. The pain was excruciating, like nothing she'd ever felt before. She was in so much agony, as the blood welled up through the cut, that she felt that she would pass out. But all of a sudden, the pain faded away, to be replaced by... relief. The pain of the cut had numbed her to other pains, of a more emotional variety. Because, whilst this was bad, the other pain was immeasurably worse.

When she steadied her breathing, she looked at her arm. The cut was long, but shallow. It was about 4 or 5 inches long, but maybe only a quarter of an inch deep. Still, it was bleeding a lot. Ib decided to soak up the blood with tissue and wait for the cut to stop bleeding. Which it did in a little while. Once it was stopped, she flushed the tissues and went back to bed, a slight smile on her face.

* * *

Over the next month, Ib began to withdraw even more from the people around her. Whenever she could, she would go and find somewhere to cut with the little blade she'd stolen. It was always with her, along with that... _other_ item. No one had noticed the missing blade, or indeed the crisscross of scars on her inner arms. She had taken to always wearing long sleeved tops though, so maybe that was it. With the cutting and the painting, no one ever saw her much anymore. She didn't talk to people, and she began gradually looking less well kept, with messy, uncared for hair and sunken eyes. Then, one day, she was in the school toilet, doing her thing, when _she _entered. The _she _in question being one of Ib's classmates. Ib vaguely remembered her name as Aya, but that was it. All she knew was that Aya was a bully.

She stepped out of her cubicle the moment she heard Aya's voice, wanting to leave before there was trouble. But as she washed her hands, Aya walked up behind her and grabbed her shoulder. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked with her rough, guttural voice.

"Minding my own business."

"Really? Well," And with this she grabbed Ib's other shoulder and pinned her to the wall, "What is your business?"

Ib was now thoroughly pissed off. She turned around and smacked Aya full in the face. "It's my business not yours." She went to smack her again, but Aya caught her wrist.

"No one slaps me you little..." she trailed off as she registered the feeling in her hand. Like a cloth soaked in warm water, but a little stickier. Looking at Ib's arm, she saw the dark red stain were she'd reopened Ib's most recent wound. "That's... b-b-blood... Oh god no... we need a teacher..." and with that, she ran off.

_Shit, now they'll all know. Great time to develop a conscience Aya. Now I'll probably get locked up in an asylum or something... well maybe not that, but they'll certainly stop me cutting. I can live with that... but what if they find out about Mary!? Of course they will, my room's full of paintings of her... They might stop me visiting her if that happened... NO! THAT CAN NOT HAPPEN!_ _I'D RATHER DIE THAN STOP SEEING MARY! I'd rather die... Should I do it? I might as well... life hasn't been worth it for a long time anyway... but doing that... there's no going back if I do, It'll be final. But is there really any point in avoiding it any longer? At least then I won't miss her anymore... _Quietly crying as she collected her bag, she slipped out of the toilets, and into the boy's, quickly shutting herself into a cubical before anyone noticed. That done, she pulled out the special object she had in her bag – a length of rope...

* * *

It was 7 hours later when they finally found her.

She was hanging from a rope, in a cubicle in the boy's toilets. Her neck had been compressed into an hourglass shape, and her eyes stared blankly ahead. The most horrifying thing though, was the smile on her face.

* * *

Ib awoke in darkness.

She stood up, unable to see what was going on around her. Looking down, she realised she was wearing the same outfit from her time in the gallery. Also, the scars on her arms were gone. As she stared at her arms in wonder, a voice spoke from behind her.

"Why are you here?"

Ib froze momentarily, her heart racing. Sure it had to be a trick. That her dreams couldn't so easily be made real. Whipping around, she saw that it_ was_ real. "Mary!" she yelled joyously. As she looked around, the place around her became more defined, she realised she was in a part of the sketchbook. The walls were black, outlined in pink.

Mary was far less amused. "What are you doing here?"

"I... I don't know..." Ib said, "It doesn't matter though. I'm back!"

"Ib, I told you to leave, and that means don't come back."

"Why..? Why do you... WHY DO YOU HATE ME!? WHAT DID I DO WRONG!?" Ib screamed at Mary, her eye's wild. She rushed forwards and grabbed her, staring into her eyes with a wild, crazed look. Mary pulled back, her eyes wide with shock, and not a little fear. "...Why?"

Mary took a second to compose herself, then spoke calmly to Ib. "I don't hate you Ib, you're my only friend. But you need to go back. This place isn't right for people like you."

Ib took a step back, then another. She began to sob quietly. "What if I couldn't? What if there was no way back for me?"

Mary laughed, that sweet, melodious laugh that had Ib entranced from the moment she heard it. "What are you talking about, Ib? You just need to step into the painting..." Mary trailed off as she looked at Ib. "...Right?"

Ib replied with the faintest whisper. "What if the pain was so great, that one day I decided to slash my wrists. And then I was caught out? And I didn't want to be taken away or locked up or sent to a psychologist? And I got so desperate that I... I killed myself."

Mary looked at her in shock. "W-what are you talking about Ib?.."

"Mary, I killed myself."

"What... No, that's not true! Why would you do that!?"

"Because I... I... I love you, Mary. Life isn't worth anything without you."

"Y-you did that for me?.. You... Why?.."

"I fell for you the moment we met. I've been in love ever since." With that, Ib once again grabbed Mary, only this time in a loving embrace. "Please don't reject me..."

"I... You killed yourself because of me?" Mary was crying now... "You love me that much?" Ib nodded. "Well, to tell the truth, I feel the same about you..." With that, she pulled Ib into a deep kiss. It was rough and clumsy, as neither of them had any experince, but what mattered was the passion they felt. Ib, though slightly surprised, quickly took control, pushing Mary into the wall, pinning her there and pressing her body into Mary's, pushing her tongue into Mary's mouth. She swirled her tongue around Mary's, enjoying the flavour. Minutes passed, then Ib finally broke the kiss. She smiled at Mary.

"That was amazing."

"Yeah..." Mary paused, a puzzled look on her face. "Hang on a second, I got you and Garry out by scaring you away? So why aren't you scared of me?"

"Well, uh... After the painting sealed, you sort of collapsed on the floor... um... You didn't know we were there, but we heard what you said..."

"Ah. That makes sense now..."

Ib looked at Mary with a cute smile. "Mary, what should I do now?"

"Well, if you can't go back, you'll stay with me."

"That sounds good. There are some things I've been meaning to do with you."

"Really? Like what?"

"You'll see..." The two of them giggled and embraced, unsure of what the future held but knowing they'd always have each other.

* * *

_**Epilogue**_

Garry looked around the gallery. He sighed. Ib had killed herself, and then... everyone had forgotten she existed. No, that wasn't quite true... It was like she never had existed. All he had left were a few bits and bobs that had mysteriously appeared next to him the same night everyone else had forgotten. Her handkerchief, a palette knife, and several of her smaller pieces of art (Several of which depicted herself and Mary in various intimate positions. He was actually shocked that she knew about all this stuff. Really, kissing was one thing, and so was romance, but... _This?_). He realised the gallery must have had something to do with that... However, this was... unexpected.

He stood before a huge painting, bigger even than the Fabricated World, looking at it calmly, serenely even. The subject was a rather controversial one, even in this time, but everyone agreed it was beautifully done, unquestionably Guertena's finest work. And that he was a complete and utter lunatic, for painting something so likely to get him stoned for heresy in a period when the church still had lots of power where he was from.

"Well class, shall I tell you what this is about?" A School teacher, with a class of 12 and 13 year old's, was taking a school trip through. Garry paused to listen to her explanation. "This painting is called 'Love Unbound'. It depicts two people kissing. Now of course, what's special is that they're both little girls, of about nine or ten. Now, many people believe the girl's age is supposed to represent innocence. So, because they are innocent children, if they love each other, it can't be wrong, can it? No matter that they are both girls. And so, this painting shows that love has no boundaries." She smiled as she finished her explanation, leading her class away.

_Love has no boundaries? _Garry thought with a smirk. _Oh my dear, you have no idea..._

And so Garry looked up at the two girls, one with hair that looked like it was spun gold and eyes made from sapphires, the other with hair like autumn leaves and eyes like pools of fire, both in their colour and in the passion within, and smiled at the thought of his two friends, happy together.

* * *

**A/N: So there it is. I hope you enjoyed, and don't hunt me down for killing Ib. I told you it was dark. On a side note, does anyone want a second chapter with a lemon? Tell me via PM or review.**

******23/08/13: Hope you liked th**e new epilogue scene.

**Until next time, JJ4622,**

**Over and Out.**


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